


Missing Miss Fisher

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not what you think.  She’s missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Series 3 spoilers. Go watch Netflix (especially Episode 3), then come back and read this!  
> I don’t own these characters, I just love them.  
> Please review and comment.

Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was working through his backlog of paperwork, a task he typically put off until he couldn’t put it off any more. He had started the day with an early meeting; now it was midmorning and he was actually getting quite a lot accomplished.  
Senior Constable Collins came and knocked on Jack’s door. “Sir? Dottie is here. To see you.”   
“Me? What’s this about?” Jack asked.   
“She’s upset. She thinks Miss Fisher is—gone.”  
“Gone?”   
“I know it sounds foolish, sir, but—Dottie sees things.”   
Jack understood what Collins was telling him. He knew Dot to be an astute observer. He also knew that she had seen any number of odd situations with Phryne as her employer, and wouldn’t be quick to involve him if she didn’t think it important.   
“Show her in,” Jack said. He rose and went to the door to meet her.   
“Mrs. Collins. Come in, sit down,” Jack said politely. He could sense tension radiating from her. He sat on the edge of his desk, and asked, “What’s happened?”  
“Inspector,” Dot said in a small voice, “I’m afraid that—well, Miss Fisher seems to have gone missing.” She seemed very upset.   
“Missing?” It didn’t make sense. “You don’t think she might simply have gone out without telling anyone?”   
“We can’t find any sign of her. Mr. Butler and I can’t make sense of it.”  
“Can you tell me everything that happened this morning that led you to believe that she is missing?”   
“Well, I went to her house this morning as I usually do. When I arrived, Mr. Butler said she hadn’t come downstairs yet. I told him I would go upstairs and take her tea and toast—I often do that. So I went up to her room, but it was empty. The bed was unmade, so she must have slept there, but there is nothing to indicate where she has gone.” Jack displayed no reaction, although a thought came instantly to his mind.   
Dot continued, showing more distress the longer she talked. “Mr. Butler went out to the garage, but the car was still there.”   
This remark disturbed Jack more than anything Dot had said so far. It was not beyond imagining that Phryne might have taken it into her head to go somewhere, even late at night; but why would she have done it without the Hispano-Suiza? It was the first bit of information Jack had heard that indicated that there might actually be some reason to believe there was something wrong. 

Dot seemed to wrestle with herself for a moment, then said, “Inspector, I was hoping you might know where she was…that she might be…with you.”   
He knew what Dot was hinting at. “No, I haven’t seen her this morning,” he said tactfully. He made a quick decision to tell her what little he did know. “But I saw her last night.”   
Dot paused, then asked delicately, “When did you leave her last night, Inspector?”   
There was no point in equivocating if Phryne really was in trouble. Glancing away, Jack said, “It was around half past midnight, I suppose. A bit later, perhaps.” Dot made no remark. 

Jack ran through a number of possibilities in his head. “Mrs. Collins, thank you for coming to tell me this. I think I’ll go along to the house and talk to Mr. Butler—and if we can find Bert and Cec, maybe they will have some information. How did you get here? Can I drive you somewhere?” Jack offered.   
“Yes, please, Inspector. If you could, please take me back to Miss Fisher’s house again. I’d like to look around some more.”   
“Of course.” Jack stepped across to open the door for her as she stood to accompany him to the car. He grabbed his hat and coat as he left his office. At the front desk, he told Collins, “I’m going over to Miss Fisher’s house to follow up. I can take Dot with me.” He considered for a moment. “I’d like you to take charge here. I’ll call if I want you to assist. It may be cleared up fairly quickly.”   
“I hope so, sir.” 

Jack settled Dot in the police cruiser, then came around to the driver’s side. As he got in, she shyly said, “Thank you, Inspector.”   
He smiled his bit of a smile. “You don’t need to thank me. You must know that I want to solve this as much as you do. And no doubt there is a simple explanation.”   
She relaxed slightly. “I hope you are right.” Jack pulled the car out and drove toward Phryne’s house.


	2. Chapter 2

In no time, they had arrived at 221B The Esplanade. Dot and the Inspector made their way up the front walk. Mr. Butler had heard the car, and came to the door to meet them. “Hello, Dorothy. Hello, Inspector Robinson. I heard the car and thought perhaps…” He let the sentence trail off.  
Jack understood. “Mr. Butler, I’d like to talk with you about what you’ve observed this morning, and last night.”  
“Of course, sir. Please come through to the kitchen, if you don’t mind. I’ll make some tea.”  
“What can I do?” Dot asked.  
“Why don’t you join us?” Jack suggested. “Perhaps you’ll see or be reminded of something that will help.”

Knowing that it might be easier for Mr. Butler to open up while he was occupied with the tea, Jack asked, “What can you tell me about Miss Fisher’s whereabouts last night and this morning?”  
Mindful of Dot’s presence, Mr. Butler said diplomatically, “I think perhaps you were the last person to see her, sir. I went to bed soon after I refilled the decanter last night—around ten-thirty, I believe.”  
“Yes, that sounds about right,” Jack said. “And…you wouldn’t normally expect to see her up for breakfast until what time?”  
“It’s often 9:30 or later when she comes downstairs.” No one could be more circumspect than Mr. Butler, but it still felt a bit awkward discussing this with Inspector Robinson, who, he believed, knew more than he was letting on about Miss Fisher’s sleeping habits. There had been a few telltale signs…But Mr. Butler appreciated that the Inspector was trying to get all the facts established, and if anyone could solve this mystery, he was the man.  
“Did you notice anything out of place? Anything that didn’t make sense?”  
Mr. Butler answered, “No, I didn’t see anything unusual.” As soon as he said it, he seemed to reconsider. Jack waited. “There is one thing…”  
“Go on.”  
“A salt cellar was knocked off the counter when I came in. I simply picked it back up.”  
“Where would it normally be kept?” Jack asked.  
“Here,” Mr. Butler said, pointing to a place against the wall. “It’s not something that would easily fall off the counter.”  
“Hmmm,” Jack said, thoughtfully. “So why would Miss Fisher knock the salt cellar off the counter? Or why would she be in this room at all?”  
“To get a drink of water?” Dot suggested. “Oh, that’s silly. She could get a drink upstairs. She wouldn’t need to come down here. And we already know that she must have gone to bed.”  
“But if she had come down here…for any reason…” Jack was struggling to put it together.  
Mr. Butler brought the tea to the table, serving Jack and Dot. “Please, Mr. Butler, sit down with us and have some tea,” Jack suggested. Dot smiled at the idea and nodded.  
Mr. Butler was reluctant, but at last they convinced him. “I suppose it might help me to think,” he said pleasantly.  
In fact it did. He had hardly settled in at the table when Mr. Butler had a sudden flash of inspiration. “This table has been moved,” he said.  
“Moved?” Jack queried.  
Dot looked around in surprise. “I think that’s right! It’s moved only a bit. But see? It is usually centered under the light.”  
Jack looked up. “Of course, you’re right. So—the table has been moved, and a salt cellar tossed on the floor…I think we should take a look at the garden.” He had an uneasy feeling that Dot may have been correct in assuming that something was wrong. He had tried to tell himself at first that Phryne would come sailing through the door any moment with an armload of shopping bags, or even with some “old friend” who had suddenly shown up—yes, even that would be preferable to thinking her in danger.  
Mr. Butler, Dot and Jack all rose and went through the door to the garden. They examined the path.  
“Some of the plants seem to be crushed,” Jack noticed.  
“As if she ran across them in a hurry?” Dot asked.  
“Or…dragged her feet…” He was beginning to feel very worried about this.  
“Oh!” Mr. Butler stooped down to pick something up. “Look at this!” It was a delicate necklace, but the chain had been split in two.  
“Oh, no,” Dot breathed. “I’ve seen her wearing this all the time lately. I don’t know where it came from, but it was very important to her. I don’t believe she would carelessly leave it behind.”  
Jack’s heart sank. He knew where it had come from. It had cost him a bloody fortune.  
“Something is very wrong here,” he said in a voice of quiet steel.

At about that moment, the two cabbies wandered up the sidewalk. “What’s this? A garden party?” Bert’s joke fell flat, and he continued, “Here now, what’s going on?”  
The Inspector said gravely, “Miss Fisher appears to have gone missing.”  
“Missing!” Cec said in his quiet voice.  
“Why don’t you both come inside?” said Mr. Butler. “I have tea ready, and the Inspector may have some questions for you.” 

The little band sat at the table. Jack laid out all the information for the cabbies’ benefit. The group considered the bits of evidence they had. Bert and Cec were not able to add anything: Miss Fisher had not called on them, nor had she suggested that she would be needing their services for anything in particular. They both felt disappointed that they couldn’t contribute anything to help.  
“Oh! What about Dr. Mac?” Dot suggested.  
Jack knew it was a good idea, but he hated the thought of looking for Phryne by visiting the morgue.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. MacMillan was fortunately just finishing an autopsy when Jack came to the door. He wasn’t bothered by dead bodies, but didn’t care much for watching Mac cut them apart.  
“Inspector!” she said. “This is unexpected. This case doesn’t come from your jurisdiction. Is Phryne involved?”  
“No—I don’t have anything to do with the case you’re working on. But I have one that I hope you can help me with. Miss Fisher seems to have disappeared.”  
“What?”  
Jack was disappointed. “I was really hoping you would tell me you knew where she went.” He leaned against an examination table. “No ideas at all? No idle speculation about a trip she might take, or a day away? A visit to the foreshore, anything?”  
“No.” Mac saw the tension in his jaw, heard the frustration in his voice. “Isn’t there anything at the house to suggest—”  
“No,” Jack said dully. “What we have found at the house only makes me think there is some kind of foul play at work here.”  
“What have you found?” Mac asked.  
Jack explained about the salt cellar, the moved table and the necklace. When he got to the last item, Mac gave a little jolt. “The one you gave her, then?”  
“Oh! She, er, told you?”  
Mac made a face. “Only a dozen times.” Jack seemed astounded, and Mac thought once again what odd creatures men were. Even this one, who seemed sometimes to be a cut above some of the rest—not that _that_ was saying much. “But this seems to suggest that she might have been—taken forcibly?”  
“It’s not much evidence to go on,” Jack said, but mused aloud about it anyway. “If someone had tried to take her, she would have fought like a tiger—” Mac snickered appreciatively—“and so might have knocked the table out of place, and she is smart enough to drag the salt cellar to the floor as a clue. She could have pulled the necklace off as a clue…”  
“But who would do such a thing, and why? Ransom?”  
“I don’t know,” Jack said miserably. “It doesn’t make sense. It would be more likely if Jane, or even Dot, were taken hostage, than to take the person in charge of the purse-strings…It doesn’t add up.”  
Mac tried to think of something that would help, but she came up empty as well. She and Jack talked for awhile longer, but he left her without any more understanding than when he arrived. 

Jack got through the day somehow, attending to his other work, frequently asking Collins if he had heard anything from Dot. It was in the back of his mind that some ransom request might come through to Dot at The Esplanade, or even to him at the police station, if someone knew enough about their relationship. But there was no phone call, no word of any kind. When the end of his shift came, Jack got up and headed out of the station. Hugh couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the Inspector leave by the clock.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack unlocked the door to his house and walked inside. He considered all the evidence he had gathered thus far, and turned it over and over in his head. As he did, he let routine guide his actions. He hung up his coat and hat; loosened his tie and removed his suit jacket; looked over his mail and sorted it quickly and efficiently; and padded out to the kitchen to see what might be there to eat, if anything. While he was there, he walked out the back door to the garden, watered a few plants, then came back in to the kitchen.  
As was often the case, he had been so occupied with gathering evidence, or considering it, that he had forgotten to take time for lunch. He found a piece of reasonably fresh fruit and wandered to the sitting area to relax and look at the newspaper, hoping a distraction would help him think of a new direction to investigate. He settled down in his familiar armchair, kicked off his shoes, leaned back as he opened the paper—and froze.  
A change in air pressure had alerted him that he was no longer alone. Someone had entered his house through the back door. He had no gun available, and he didn’t want to be a sitting target, so he silently rose and made his way toward the kitchen. His best bet was to try to surprise the intruder.  
A dark figure appeared in the doorway. Jack could see instantly that she posed no threat. Her head was covered by a long mantilla which she pushed off her face when she saw him.  
“Gianni,” she said in her soft, faintly accented voice.  
“Concetta.” For the briefest of moments, they simply stood and stared as memories washed over them. Jack took stock of everything about her, and then he asked, “Why are you here? Something is troubling you.”  
Regret filled her heart. This man, who understood her so easily; if only…But she knew what she had come to do, and was determined to do it.  
“I know something that will help you,” she said, “and that will help your Miss Fisher.”  
“Come in. Sit down,” Jack said, waving her toward the sitting area he had just left. “Can I get you something to drink? You look like you need something.”  
“No. I cannot stay. I must tell you what I know, and leave.”  
The lilt of her voice fell soothingly on his ears even as she hinted at danger. A myriad of memories flitted through his mind; although he had never suspected Concetta’s feelings for him ran so deep, he had enjoyed and appreciated her company at a low time in his life.  
“Tell me,” he encouraged.  
“You made the Camorra very angry, Gianni.”  
“But—your grandfather—”  
“Yes. He protected you, because you exposed what Salvatore did. But he is no longer _Padrino_. His place is taken by another man, Giuseppe Rossi, who is more… _instabile_. He knows what you did, and worst, that you let a woman help you.” She sighed. “That is what they cannot stand, _caro mio_ … that a woman can help overcome the Camorra.”  
“Damn it!” Jack swore, then apologized immediately. “I’m sorry, Concetta. It’s just—I tried to keep her out of it. I don’t ‘let’ her do anything.” He jammed his hands in his pockets in frustration. “I might have known we got off too easy. So, they kidnapped her because they want to punish her? How can I get her out of this?”  
“No, Gianni. This time, you don’t understand.” Concetta’s lovely face was filled with sadness for what she had to tell him. “She is a woman. They don’t really care about her, why bother? They hate that you let her work with you— _you_ are the one they wish to punish.”  
The chilled realization on Jack’s face made her heart ache. “Of course. I should have seen it. It’s what Salvatore warned me about, isn’t it? And I was stupid enough to think that his hanging would put an end to it.”  
“The Camorra has a long memory.” Concetta’s eyes met his and held. “Gianni, I must go.” She rose, and he stood as well.  
“Of course. You’ve taken a tremendous risk in coming. I don’t know how I can thank you, Concetta.”  
They had walked to the back door. Impulsively, Concetta pulled Jack into a quick embrace. “Be well, Gianni,” she whispered. “Be safe.”  
“Thank you,” he murmured. She kissed his cheek, and disappeared into the dark. He watched from the window as long as he could, to see that she got away safely. 

Now that he had some direction, Jack was in a quandary. Clearly, he would have to investigate this case alone. He didn’t dare involve Collins; Hugh was definitely his right-hand man, but also recently married and young, with a bright future ahead of him. There wasn’t anyone else he would trust as implicitly as Collins, nor would he risk any other constable’s future on the likes of the Camorra.  
Jack would have to go it alone. Obviously, the partner he wanted the most was currently a hostage, as a result of his own stupidity, he told himself. He indulged in a bit of self-chastisement, but being a logical man, he soon shook it off, knowing that it wouldn’t help Phryne.  
He would have to start nosing around the Camorra, and he couldn’t be subtle about it if he wanted to attract the attention that would get him a connection with the new _Padrino_. He hoped he’d survive long enough to free Phryne.  
Jack racked his brain to think of some connection, some low-level felon who would get him an entrée to the _Padrino_. At last a name came to him. Luigi Marino was a petty criminal who wanted to be part of the Camorra but wasn’t useful enough to be accepted; he’d do. Jack would search him out tomorrow, first thing.  
With a plan in mind at last, Jack was filled with pent-up energy, although by now it was 11:30 pm. Forcing himself to be logical once more, he tossed back a glass of whiskey and headed to the bedroom, reasoning that he’d be no good to Phryne or anyone else if he didn’t get some sleep. But sleep was elusive, and what sleep eventually came was far from restful.


	5. Chapter 5

Some hours earlier, Phryne Fisher had been looking desperately around the small building in which she was trapped. Her hands were bound behind her and tied to the chair where she was seated. She was not gagged, so it would appear there was no one anywhere near. She hadn’t heard any other voices or any traffic, so she must be far from the city.  
Although she was sure she was in some sort of outbuilding, from its size and general appearance, any kind of tool that might have helped her seemed to have been removed. It was troubling that this clearly was so carefully planned and executed; it would make it far more difficult to find her way out, and proved to her that this was more than a spur-of-the-moment kidnapping.  
She was sure from what she had heard that this was orchestrated by the Camorra, and she had been careful not to reveal that she understood the Italian they spoke freely in front of her.  
  
A tiny part of her—though she was loath to admit it—wished for rescue. It wasn’t odd to want to be free, but she wanted to find her own way to safety, because she knew that the one most likely to rescue her was the man she least wanted to meet the Camorra again. She had gathered from her captors that her kidnapping had little to do with her, and everything to do with Jack. She wasn’t sure exactly what they wanted from him. As angry as they sounded, they probably wanted to cause him a great deal of grief _and_ get a healthy ransom at the same time. She didn’t care about the money, of course; she just hoped that was all they wanted. There was an undertone to what they said that worried her.  
  
Now she had been alone for much of the day, and her attempts to free her hands had thus far been unsuccessful. She glanced around the building, looking again for a sharp place or a rough edge to rub the ropes against. While she looked, her mind drifted back to the hours before she was kidnapped. It had been such an enchanting evening, as were so many of her evenings spent with Jack. They had loved so joyfully! Oh, if only he had stayed. He had to go to work early the next day, and had told her she needn’t get up; but she couldn’t resist seeing him downstairs to the door, and collecting more kisses, and sending him on his way. Then she had wandered out to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was there, gazing out over the garden, that she had noticed a movement—just odd enough to send her flying up the stairs to pull on some clothing so she could investigate. As soon as she opened the door, they had come in after her, silent as the grave. She had fought; she had tried to leave clues. She could only hope Jack would find and understand them.  
If only she had stayed in bed…or had gone directly upstairs again after he left…but there was no point thinking about that. They had clearly been watching the house, waiting for their chance. If it hadn’t been possible that night, they would simply have taken her another time.  
Phryne redoubled her efforts to think of a way to get free. She just had to get out, before Jack figured out where she was, and walked straight into a trap.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Senior Constable Collins arrived at nearly the same time as Inspector Robinson. “Good morning, sir! Have you had any more ideas about where Miss Fisher may be?” Hugh asked with interest.  
“I have. I had an idea last evening that might give me some new information. I’m not sure how much I can involve you in it, though, Collins.”  
Hugh was not pleased with the Inspector’s comment. “But sir—who would know more about Miss Fisher and her household than me?”  
“That’s not it, Collins. I need you to keep things running smoothly here. That will give me the freedom to follow up on my information alone.”  
“But wouldn’t it be better to have some help?”  
“It would, Hugh, but I don’t want to put you at risk when I need you here.”  
It occurred to Senior Constable Collins that the Inspector had just addressed him, as he did on a rare occasion, by his first name. It always meant a lot to Hugh when he did it. “Couldn’t I be of more use working with you?”  
The Inspector looked tired. “Not this time. I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worrying about keeping things straight here at the station.” He said it in a way that permitted no more discussion. “I’m going out to start pursuing some leads. You’re in charge.”  
“Be careful, sir,” Hugh said.  
“I intend to be.” He clapped Hugh on the arm in a comradely way.  
Hugh determined to keep a close eye on the Inspector, as much as he could. Hugh wouldn’t defy orders, not from Inspector Robinson, but he didn’t like the sound of any of this.

Jack had been following Luigi Marino for much of the morning, when he finally saw Marino threaten a shopkeeper. Jack knew that the Camorra sometimes required “protection money” from business owners, and he knew just as certainly that Marino was acting solely on his own. He stepped out into the open and accused Marino, flashing his badge. The shopkeeper was relieved when his harasser was pulled out into the street by the detective.  
“Trying to set up your own protection network? That doesn’t seem like a very wise move for someone who wants to join the Camorra,” Jack said knowingly.  
Marino was flustered, but talked back insolently. “I know who you are! You’re the detective who thinks he can stop the Camorra.” He sneered. “You don’t have a chance. You don’t know anything.”  
“Maybe you can help me understand, then,” Jack said smoothly. “I’d like to meet the new _Padrino_.”  
“Why would the _Padrino_ waste his time on you?” Marino said insultingly.  
“I have a feeling he would like very much to talk to me. And he might reward the person who tells him that I want to meet with him.”  
“What do you know about it? You know nothing,” Marino accused.  
Jack shrugged. “All right. I’ll find someone else to take my message to the _Padrino_. I’m not sure you’re the right man for the job anyway.” He started to walk away.  
He made it halfway down the block. It didn’t take long for Marino to wonder if he might be letting a real opportunity slip away. “Wait. What do you want me to do?”  
Jack turned back to him. “Tell him I want to meet with him. Tell him that I’m ready to negotiate. And then report back to me with his answer.”  
Marino said, “I’ll talk to him. If he wants to talk to you, I’ll tell you. If not--” He held out his hands in a way that suggested he wouldn’t bother to pursue it.  
“You can call me at the station,” Jack told him.  
“I’ll find you. Don’t worry about that. If the _Padrino_ has time to see you, I’ll find you.”  
Jack nodded curtly, then turned and walked away. 


	7. Chapter 7

Jack had returned to City South, trying to school his mind into concentrating on some other work. It had been fruitless. Once again, he gathered his hat and coat when the clock struck the time when his shift ended. He walked out of the station, and was about a block and a half away when he was grabbed and pulled into an alley. He had expected something like this, but it surprised him how soon it happened.  
Marino took advantage of the detective’s momentary surprise. He pushed Jack up against a wall and held a knife to his throat. Jack was almost a head taller, so Marino depended on the knife to control him.  
“I have the information you wanted. But maybe you don’t want it so much now,” he sneered.  
“Tell me,” Jack said calmly.  
“You think this is an easy thing, to meet the _Padrino?_ It is not an easy thing. You may not walk away.”  
Jack looked levelly at the petty criminal before him. “The _Padrino_ wants to talk to me. He wants something from me. It wouldn’t be a smart move to kill me before that takes place.”  
Marino looked at the Inspector as menacingly as he could. It didn’t seem to have any effect. He slowly lowered the knife, and spit near the Inspector’s shoes. Nothing seemed to make the Inspector betray any fear, so Marino gave up that tactic.  
“All right. The _Padrino_ will meet with you. Tonight. I will take you to him.” 

They walked to an abandoned building on the edge of a rundown area. Marino had a way to get in through the back door of the building, and gestured to the Inspector to follow him.  
Once they were both inside, Marino took Jack to a dark inner room.  
“What’s this?” Jack asked. He had been aware that this might simply be a way to get rid of him, but thought there was more that the Camorra wanted. Hoped that there was. He had to get Phryne free.  
“You want to see the _Padrino_. Well, you’re gonna see him,” Marino said, as he pulled out a gun and aimed it at Jack.  
A door that had not previously been visible in the darkness opened, and a man walked in.  
“So. You say you want to see me.”  
Jack held the man’s stare. “Yes,” he said. “I believe you have something of mine.” As he said it, he knew it was the best way to approach the _Padrino_ , but it went against the grain to speak of Phryne as a possession.  
Rossi took his time assessing Jack before he answered. “How do you know? Did Marino squeal to you?” Marino looked worried but didn’t lower the gun.  
“No. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” Jack said it flatly, hoping that Concetta wouldn’t be discovered to have helped in any way.  
“So. You’re a smart detective.” Rossi took his time, playing like a cat with a mouse. “What if I do have something of yours?”  
“If you do, I want to know what it will cost to set her free.”  
Rossi laughed. “It will cost, believe me. You may not like the price.”  
“Tell me,” Jack said boldly.  
Rossi told him what he would accept in return for Phryne’s safety. Jack let it appear that he was considering the option.  
“I know that the woman isn’t important to the Camorra,” Jack said. “She’s only the means to an end. Very well, you got my attention. I’ll meet your price. But not until she is safe.”  
“You don’t dictate any terms!” the _Padrino_ stormed suddenly. “And you are right, the woman is not important to the Camorra. But she is important to you, Inspector Jack Robinson,” Rossi jeered.  
“All right. I won’t deny it. If you let her go, I’ll meet your price, _and_ I’ll leave my constables behind. It will be just between us, as men.”  
He wondered if he was laying it on too thick, but apparently he’d struck the right note. “All right, Inspector. It is a deal. A package with directions will be delivered to you tomorrow.”  
“What? Why not tell me now?” No good, he was letting his frustration show.  
“Ah, how desperate you are! That is the best way to keep you from doing something foolish. The package will come tomorrow,” he insisted, and faded away into the darkness.

Jack took a deep breath. Rossi was right. He felt desperate. He turned back to Marino, but his timing was off. Marino was right behind him. He knocked Jack to the floor and ran out of the building.  
Jack found his way back home, and hoped he would be exhausted enough to sleep, after getting little rest the night before. It was not to be.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Jack went to work with a sense of foreboding. He knew enough about the Camorra to be worried about what they might send in a “package”.  
The minutes dragged by until a package was brought in by a child of the streets. Hugh suggested they question the boy, but Jack disagreed, and gave the boy some change before sending him away.  
Jack took the package, a small box, to his office. A part of him didn’t want to open the package, but it had to be done, and he did it. He heaved a long sigh of relief when he saw that the _Padrino_ had sent one of Phryne’s rings, wrenched off her finger, no doubt, but leaving the finger intact. Underneath the ring was an address and a time. 

Jack and Hugh arranged for everyone to meet at The Esplanade 221B. Mr. Butler and Dot were already there. Jack had called Mac and asked her to come, and Dot had called Cec. 

Jack told them as little as he could, while still managing to make sense. “I know who is holding Miss Fisher, and where. I’ve developed a plan to get her safely away, but I’ll require the help of all of you.”  
Everyone nodded. It went without saying that they would give their assistance. 

“Bert. Cec.” The two men snapped to attention. It wasn’t often that the Inspector used their nicknames; it must mean something that he did so now. “Your part in this is crucial.”  
“We can handle it,” boasted Bert before he knew what it was. Cec nodded confidently.  
“I know you can; I’m counting on you. I’ll want you to accompany me to the place where Miss Fisher is being held. I need you two to take her to the cab once she’s free, and get her back here safely.” He paused for emphasis. “Now listen carefully: I have to know that, even if it looks like things are falling apart, you’ll get Miss Fisher safely away.”  
Cec asked, “Can’t you tell us more about the plan?”  
The Inspector said, “The less you know about the plan, the better for all concerned. Safer. Trust me on this—and don’t let Miss Fisher get away from you, no matter what, even if it seems like it’s all going to—er,” there were ladies present—“to come apart. I need your word on this.”  
“Because you’ve got a plan, right?” Bert said, to indicate that he understood.  
“Because I’ve got a plan.”  
Bert and Cec nodded. “We’ll handle it,” Cec asserted.  
The Inspector offered his hand. “Shake on it.” The cabbies each took their turn, happy to be an important part of the rescue operation. 

With the authority that came naturally to him, Jack continued issuing orders.  
“Dot. Mac. I’m counting on you to help Miss Fisher once we get her to safety. Mac, I’d like you to come along with us to the place where they are holding her.” Mac gave a sharp nod of her head to signify that she agreed. “Dot, you and Mr. Butler can stay here, and be ready to receive her when Bert and Cec bring her back. She will certainly need to recover, and Mac may need to give her some medical attention.”  
Dot and Mr. Butler both nodded as well. 

Jack told Hugh, “Collins, you’ll have to stay way out of sight. Park where you can see Bert and Cec deliver Miss Fisher to the cab. Once she’s out of harm’s way, proceed with care; these people are extremely dangerous, and I don’t want you caught in the middle of anything.”  
“But _you_ are, sir. Caught in the middle.”  
“Ah. Yes, I am. All the more reason for you to keep on the other side of it.” He gave Hugh a slightly imploring look. “I really need you to make sure Miss Fisher gets away before you go after any suspects.”  
Hugh frowned. “I will. But I feel I should be with you, not off hiding away.”  
“No. Another policeman would be too intimidating. Bert and Cec will handle it.” The Inspector looked bone tired. “I’m sorry, Collins. It’s nothing like our usual procedure, I know. It’s the best I can come up with, for all concerned.”  
Hugh nodded. ‘You can count on me.” But he didn’t like it. 

Now everyone had a part to play, and everyone knew his or her role in the unfolding drama. All they had to do was wait until the appointed time.


	9. Chapter 9

It was the third day of Phryne’s captivity, and she could sense that something was about to happen.  
On the second day, she had finally fought her way free of the bonds that held her wrists. At last she had been able to investigate the building where she was being held. She had tried every possible opening to no avail. She was without her lockpick, knife or gun: she had, of course, taken the little Beretta downstairs with her when she went to investigate the movement in her garden that fateful night, but the two who had kidnapped her had gotten it away from her. She was in the process of trying to pry at the doorframe when her captors had returned. They had been none too gentle, for she had fought with all her strength; but in a contest of brute strength, the two men were bound to overcome a single woman. They tied her once more and left her. She had sighed and started once more to try to find a way to free herself.  
By the third morning, she had gotten no further than before, when two men she had not seen before were let into the building. She looked up at them audaciously. “And who might you be? I haven’t seen you before.”  
The man who seemed to be in charge laughed at her. “You don’t need to know anything about me. You’ll find out soon enough.” He ordered the other man to untie her hands.  
It was such a great relief to be free that she simply stood for a moment, rubbing her wrists, stretching her muscles, calculating her next move. Unfortunately, the next move was not within her control. There were noises of traffic outside, and the second man went to open the front door to the building.  
The man in charge smiled unkindly at Phryne. “Right on time. Your ransom.” 

Shortly after he said this, the door opened, and Jack strode in, with Bert and Cec flanking him. Phryne’s heart leapt and sank all in a moment. She had longed for Jack so much, and yet this was just what she had been fearing. Phryne tried to restrain her feelings, but the many days as a hostage had taken their toll. She couldn’t hide her relief at seeing them all. 

Jack’s eyes raked over Phryne. Her clothes were ruined, she was unwashed, and he suspected he saw some bruises, which made his blood boil; but he held it inside, focusing on what needed to be done. He turned to the _Padrino_.  
“Inspector, I told you to come alone.” Rossi said with a warning tone.  
“These men are here to take Miss Fisher to safety. Once she’s safe, I can give you what you asked for.”  
Rossi smiled unnervingly. “What I asked for. Yes. All right, Inspector, I’ll play along.”  
Rossi nodded to his second-in-command, who gave Phryne a rough push forward. Her muscles were weak from being confined, and she couldn’t catch herself—but Jack was there.  
He helped her to stand. She clung to him, and he was grateful for the chance to hold her, and to look deep into her eyes once more; and yet, he knew he had to conclude this business before she could truly be safe. “Phryne. Go with Bert and Cec. They’ll get you away from here.”  
Even in her diminished state, Phryne felt something in the air. “Jack, I don’t like this. What are you doing?”  
Unable to stop himself, Jack cupped her cheek with one hand, then ran it slowly down her throat, across her shoulder, landing on her upper arm, where he gently took hold. He smiled. “I’m getting you to safety. Gentlemen?”  
Bert and Cec stepped up as the plan called for them to do. “Come on, Miss,” Cec said softly. Bert gave her a wink to let her know that everything would be all right. She let them take her arms and lead her to the door, but at the last moment turned back. “Jack?”  
“Go on, Phryne. I just have a bit of business to take care of—with as few witnesses as possible.” He added, “Everybody is waiting for you. They’ll take good care of you.”  
The look on her face told him that she didn’t want to leave this way, but at last she nodded. She managed a bit of bravado. “Don’t be too long, Inspector.”  
He answered, “I’ll see this done as quickly as I can.” The smile didn’t quite reach his dark eyes.  
He nodded to Bert and Cec, who pulled Phryne through the door, to Jack’s great relief.

They were about halfway to the car when Phryne began to struggle.  
“Wait. Stop!” Phryne said, coming to a halt. “Something’s wrong. His eyes…”  
Bert and Cec looked at each other. It was just like the Inspector had warned them. They took her arms and pulled her along. It worked at first, because she wasn’t expecting it; but then she dug in her heels. “Stop! We have to go back!”  
Bert smiled kindly. “That’s just what the Inspector warned us about. He said it might look like things were going wrong, but to make sure to get you to the car. It’s all part of the plan.”  
“Nooo!” Phryne cried. “Don’t you know him at all, after all this time? _He’s_ the thing they wanted delivered! They want to make an example of him! You’ve got to let me go to him!” She was sobbing. “Jack, no! Jack!”  
Bert and Cec stared at each other. They had promised the Inspector. They’d shaken on it. But---  
Shots rang out inside the building they had just left. It startled Bert and Cec enough that they lost their grip on Phryne, but instead of running back as they feared she would, she sank to the ground, hands covering her face. “Oh, no. No, Jack.”  
Bert snarled, “I’ll kill the bloody bastards!” and ran heedlessly into the shed.


	10. Chapter 10

Bert could never have imagined what he saw once he stepped inside. There was an Italian woman holding a smoking gun; the man who seemed to be in charge was dead on the ground; and Inspector Robinson was also on the ground, holding a gun on the other man, who was injured. “What’s going on?”  
“Bert. Good. I need someone to get Collins.”  
“Who’s she?” Bert asked bluntly about the Italian woman.  
“The lady who just saved my life.”  
“Gianni. You are shot,” Concetta said, full of concern.  
“Where’d they get you?” Bert asked.  
“In the shin. Could be a lot worse. Concetta, give Bert your gun, so he can keep Marino covered. Then help me stand up, please.” While Bert held the gun on the injured criminal on the floor, Concetta came to help Jack up off the floor. Once he was standing and could brace himself against the wall, Jack trained his gun back on Marino.  
Keeping his eyes on the injured man, Jack said, “Concetta. Go. Run far away. Change your name.”  
“But Gianni, what will happen to you if I get away?”  
“I can’t possibly run after you on this leg. Bert is not part of the constabulary, so I wouldn’t ask him to try to detain you. Go.”  
She started to follow his directive, then turned back. “I will do what you say, and you will not find me.”  
“Good,” he said bluntly.  
“I wish you happiness, Gianni,” she said softly. Bert made a face at the second use of the unfamiliar name.  
Jack met her eyes one last time. “I wish you happiness, Concetta. You deserve some.” She reached out toward him but stopped herself, thinking better of it. She nodded to him and was gone.  
Silence filled the room for a moment, but Bert had some questions that wouldn’t wait. “Why’d that sheila call you Johnny? Doesn’t she know your name? Because it sounded like she knew you pretty well.”  
“No, it’s not Johnny, it’s—” Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Help me get Collins over here.”  
“How well did you know that _señorita_ , anyway?”  
“Not _señorita_ …Albert, this is not the time! Find Collins for me, he’s not far away.”  
Just as Bert started to move toward the door, it burst open.  
“Jack!” Phryne almost fainted with relief. “Oh, God, Jack! You’re alive!”  
Bert wisely moved out of the way. Miss Fisher crossed to the Inspector and stood before him where he leaned against the wall. “You’re hurt. Where? What happened?”  
Hugh was right behind Miss Fisher, and took in the situation before him as quickly as he could. “Inspector!” he said, the relief clear in his voice.  
Dr. MacMillan followed Hugh. “Oh, thank God. So what have you done to yourself ?”  
Jack addressed Hugh first. “Collins! Arrest this man, and see to the body of the other.”  
“Camorra, sir?” Hugh asked in a low voice.  
Jack nodded. “I’ll fill you in completely—later.”  
“Yes, sir.” Hugh handcuffed the injured man, pulled him to his feet and led him away. Jack put the gun down.  
“Inspector, where are you injured?” Mac interjected. “I should take a look.”  
“It’s my leg—shinbone,” Jack said shortly. Mac went after the chair that until recently had been occupied by Miss Fisher. She brought it and got Jack arranged in it while the conversation went on.  
“Jack, where did you get that gun? That’s not yours,” Phryne asked. Assured that Jack was alive and mostly well, her powers of observation came to the fore.  
“No. I relieved our prisoner of it. It’s evidence,” he said flatly.  
She couldn’t resist another question. “Did I see Concetta Fabrizzi running away?”  
Bert’s eyes went wide. So Miss Fisher knew this skirt, too? Maybe there was nothing to accuse the Inspector of, after all.  
Jack gave Phryne a meaningful look. “You can’t really be sure of that. It sounds like she was too far away from you for you to be able to identify her definitively.”  
Phryne, bless her, understood what he was getting at immediately. “I see. Bert, you don’t know that woman, do you?”  
“Well…” Bert stumbled. He wasn’t sure what game they were playing.  
“So you’re the only one who can identify her, Jack?” Phryne asked.  
“Yes. But I suspect she’ll be long gone by the time I manage to get these criminals taken care of and get myself patched up, and of course, there’s all the paperwork to do, before I can even think about pursuing her.” Jack smiled a crooked smile. “And I had such a long string of successes, up till now.”  
Phryne nodded her approval. “Your failure to find her will be one of them—in my book.” 

She waved toward her friend, who had been hovering around the both of them. “Now let Mac take a look at you. She’s been very patient.”  
Mac had her bag. She had expected she might need to care for Phryne, not Jack, but she was prepared in any case. Jack stretched out his leg tentatively, and barely stifled a groan.  
Mac pushed his trouser leg up and looked at his shin. “Bullets were flying all around, and you got away with only this?”  
“Only a few bullets flew,” Jack maintained.  
“Too many bullets,” Phryne said with a shiver.  
Mac pulled out scissors and efficiently cut the trouser leg up to Jack’s knee.  
“Oh,” Jack said mournfully, “I really liked this suit.”  
Mac shot him a ferocious look. “Probably not as well as you like this leg, you idiot!”  
Both Jack and Phryne looked at her in shock.  
Mac retreated. “Oh, all right, I’m sorry, you don’t deserve that. You are the man of the hour, after all.”  
Phryne smoothed over Mac’s outburst. “Jack, I believe Mac must be fond of you. She reserves ‘idiot’ for her closest friends.”  
Mac added brusquely, “And you ought to know.” She addressed Jack, “At least you’re a live idiot. I thought at first you might not be.” She stood, and leaned over him so close that they were almost nose-to-nose. “Don’t you _ever_ come to my morgue that way, Inspector. Do you understand?”  
Phryne shuddered.  
“I wouldn’t dare,” Jack avowed. 

Mac patched up Jack’s leg as well as she could with what she had in her bag, then declared that he should be transported back to Phryne’s house where she had left more extensive supplies.  
Phryne agreed that Jack should come to her house so Mac could look after his leg. Jack agreed that Phryne should be taken home as soon as possible. Hugh agreed that Phryne should go home so Dot—and Mr. Butler—could look after her. Bert and Cec agreed that everyone should go to Wardlow because they could sense that the show was about to start.


	11. Chapter 11

Bert and Cec were right, although the show started sooner than they expected. Phryne insisted that Jack should ride with her in the back of the cab, where he could stretch out his leg. Jack required help to walk, so he had little to say about it.  
Luckily, he hadn’t been expecting to be coddled or cared for, because he would have been sorely disappointed. All the way back to the house, Phryne pecked at him. “Jack, what were you thinking? How could you? They wanted to kill you!”  
“Nonsense. They wanted to force me to look the other way while they carried on their business dealings.”  
“And you were going to do that?” she said sarcastically.  
“Well, no, but I had to let them think that I would,” Jack told her.  
“I don’t believe you! And what’s more, I don’t think they did either. I heard some of their talk when they didn’t know I could understand. It’s you they wanted.”  
“You’re making this much more dramatic than it is. Why would they kill me if they could use me?”  
“To make an example of you. To show everyone that no policeman can best the Camorra.”  
Jack suddenly felt infinitely tired. “You were kidnapped and held hostage for three days. Shouldn’t you be swooning or something?”  
“Swooning! When have you ever known me to swoon?”  
“This might be a good time to try it.”  
“You can’t just make yourself swoon.”  
“Of course you can. Women have been doing it for ages.”  
“Well! You’ll never see me swoon.”  
They rode a little further, and Jack made no further comment. As they continued toward The Esplanade, Phryne noticed that Jack wasn’t keeping up his end of the conversation at all. She looked closely at his unusually wan face. “Jack, you’re looking a little pale. That is a nasty gunshot wound you’ve got. Are you all right?”  
“No…I’m feeling a little off…” He lay his head against the back of the seat, and faded away.  
Cec looked back, worried. “What happened? Is the Inspector all right?”  
Phryne checked his pulse quickly and found it strong. Feeling reassured, she said the only thing she _could_ say under the circumstances. “He swooned.”

Jack came around in a few moments, and Phryne let up on him temporarily. They arrived at The Esplanade soon after; Bert and Cec handed Miss Fisher out of the car, then helped the Inspector into the house.  
“Jack, sit in the parlour while we wait for Mac,” Phryne suggested.  
Jack nodded. “You’re the one who needs to be taken care of here.”  
Dot and Mr. Butler decided to divide and conquer: Dot accompanied Miss Fisher up the stairs, and Mr. Butler, once convinced that the Inspector was comfortable, brought him a glass with a fair measure of whiskey. Then he disappeared into the kitchen with the cabbies to get the real story of how events had unfolded.


	12. Chapter 12

Phryne went upstairs with Dot. “I’m desperate for a bath! But I hate to leave Jack down there alone…”  
“He’s not alone. Mr. Butler is looking after him, and Hugh will be here with Dr. Mac any minute. You need to take some time for yourself.”  
Dot was being uncharacteristically assertive, and it made Phryne smile. “Thank you, Dot. I suppose you’re right. I can’t wait to wash away the memories of the last few days! And have clean hair, and some fresh clothes, and—lipstick!” 

Much later, the glamourous woman they were accustomed to glided down the stairs, followed by Dot. All the others were assembled in the parlour near the Inspector, who had a new and improved dressing on his leg thanks to Dr. MacMillan. Bert and Cec told and retold their part of the story to Hugh, to Mac, and eventually to the world at large, and it got a little better each time. Hugh relaxed for the first time in days, knowing that the Inspector was safe and that Hugh had helped him neutralize the threat of the Camorra again, as well as getting Miss Fisher safely home. Mac was grateful that no one had come to any worse harm than they did. Jack sat quietly, observing the hubbub around him. He noticed instantly when Phryne entered the room, at the same time that Hugh said joyfully, “Dottie!”  
Phryne made her way to the center of the room and sat across from Jack. At first she didn’t say a word, nor did he; they didn’t seem to need any words. At last, she said, “You found my clues.”  
His smile was warm. “Give credit where credit is due. Dot and Mr. Butler found them.”  
She looked pensive. “I’m afraid I’ll have to consult a jeweler…”  
“Yes. Maybe I can see to that for you.”  
“I may be able to find a tailor for you in return.”  
“This is all the two of you can come up with, after everything that’s gone on today?” Mac said in exasperation. The others had all taken up their own conversations, but Mac had stayed attuned to Phryne and the Inspector.  
Phryne couldn’t resist a jab. “I already harassed him to the point of collapse on the way here.”  
Wryly, Jack shook his head. “I think you were a little overwrought.”  
Phryne stopped smiling. “No, I wasn’t. You put yourself in terrible danger.”  
“ _You_ were the one in danger.” His smile faded as well.  
“And your idea was to solve that by substituting yourself for me!”  
“That’s absurd. I wasn’t about to become a hostage.”  
“No. They didn’t want a hostage.” Now Phryne was fuming again. “If you’d had your way, I’d be in mourning right now!”  
“What? Phryne, I didn’t walk in there with any intention of dying!”  
“Well, what would you call it? You didn’t even have a plan!”  
“Of course I had a plan!”  
“What was it, then?”  
“To get you out safely, and then…see what opportunities presented themselves.”  
“OHH!” she fairly screamed. “That’s not a plan!”  
“Of course it’s a plan. I didn’t know what I was walking into. It’s the only plan I could have made.”  
She shook her head in frustration. He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. Without thinking, she said, “Is that the best that you can do?”  
“I believe you’ve asked me that before. Would you like me to improve on it?”  
The nerve of the man! “You’d better! Don’t you ever do such a thing again!”  
He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous! What are the chances of such a thing happening again?”  
Phryne was astonished into silence.  
Mac said, “Give that man a prize. He actually rendered Phryne Fisher speechless.”  
Phryne glared. Jack gazed back innocently.


	13. Chapter 13

Jack had been sitting with his leg up for some time, and the idleness was starting to irritate him. He began to make movements as if he were going to stand up.   
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mac said as severely as any doctor could.   
Jack appreciated her care, but said, “I’m going to have to go home at some point.”   
“Oh, no, you don’t. You need to keep that leg elevated at least overnight. You do not need to be wandering around on it. Phryne, you can find room for him to stay.” Mac was not asking. She was handing out orders to both of them.   
“Of course I can! Jack, you can’t go home and try to fend for yourself. I have Dot and Mr. Butler here to help. You’ve got to stay, if you want that leg to heal properly.”   
Jack frowned, but Mac went on, “You can’t put him upstairs, though. You’ll have to set up something down here.”  
“Oh, that’s asking too much,” Jack protested.   
“Not at all! I’ll take care of everything. You’ll see.” Phryne headed to the door, then turned back. “Mac! Come help me rearrange the study properly. Dot, come along, you can help us.” The ladies left the room.   
The Inspector looked up at his Senior Constable. “I may be the next one in need of a rescue, Collins.”   
Hugh grinned. “Oh, I don’t think I’m brave enough for that, sir.”   
The Inspector fixed him with a doleful look, but Hugh was steadfast. 

The three women made their way down the hall to the study. When they were several steps away from the parlour, Mac leaned towards Phryne and said very quietly, “You’re welcome.”   
“Mac! Are you saying…?”  
“Every bit of medical advice I just gave the Inspector was absolutely sound. He does need to keep his leg elevated and immobile. But I didn’t think you’d be unhappy about keeping him here, either.”   
Phryne didn’t answer. The look on her face said it all. Dot tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle. 

The next morning, Mr. Butler was bustling around the kitchen as he usually did of a morning. Dot arrived and said, “Good morning, Mr. Butler! Shall I take Miss Fisher her tea?”   
“No,” Mr. Butler chuckled. “Not today, Dorothy.”   
Dot was puzzled. “And why would that be?”  
Mr. Butler was careful not to alarm her. “There’s nothing to worry about, but I’m afraid you will not find Miss Fisher in her room this morning, either.”   
Dot allowed herself a small smile. “Oh. I’ll just leave it to you, then.” She went on about her work. 

As always, Mr. Butler had taken pains to be sure that all was well with every inhabitant of the house. He had gone in earlier to the study that was now a makeshift “guest room”, where the Inspector had spent the night. He saw the Inspector propped up against several pillows in a large comfortable armchair. Draped over his injured leg, immobilized on an ottoman, was a throw cover; draped across his body was a luxurious blanket from the guest room upstairs; and draped about his broad shoulders was Miss Fisher. She must have started out on the wide arm of the chair, but now was curled ivylike against the Inspector. The sleepers’ heads nodded against each other, and both wore faint smiles as they slept.   
Mr. Butler wore a faint smile himself at the sight of it. He was grateful for a moment’s peace for both of them, knowing it would likely be brief—until the next adventure presented itself.


End file.
